


Following Examples

by suzuyaaaaa



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: AND I LOVE MY RUSSIAN SON, Engagement, Established Relationship, Fluff, I love this show, Implied Sexual Content, Kissing, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Pet Names, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, yuri's winnin gold AGAIN
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-06
Updated: 2017-02-06
Packaged: 2018-09-22 09:48:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9602381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suzuyaaaaa/pseuds/suzuyaaaaa
Summary: Otabek and Yuri learn to follow Yuuri and Viktor's example.





	

**Author's Note:**

> hey every1 im finally back from the dead!!! i deleted my hq au bc i just got rlly stressed whenever i thought about it (as in keeping its updates up to date) so its gone :(( but i can pump out lil short things like these out rlly fast!! i hope u enjoy, i love this show and this ship and my adorable russian son! this is unbeta'd lol everything on here is

Yuri’s heart is pounding in his chest hard and fast, and he doesn’t really like the feeling. His chest is tighter, and his limbs seem shorter, like his heart is growing in size and shoving his insides aside to accommodate it. As much as he dislikes the sensation, this mix of fatigue and adrenaline, he’s grown accustomed to it; after all, it happens every time he wins.

The Russian is eighteen, and his vision is swimming beneath the bright lights of the rink while he stands on top of the podium. His third Grand Prix Final medal hangs from his neck, the weight of the gold pulling down on his limber body. The thrill of winning again always fills him with happiness. Deep, deep down, he’s fucking elated because a third gold to his name isn’t so bad to have. However, his routines this year left him completely drained. The entire competition was a goddamn blur, a montage of quads and step sequences and bruised ankles, and he just wants to fucking _sleep_. He never gives himself a break, he hasn’t since he was sixteen and lost the GPF to fucking _Katsudon_. He was stupid for thinking that just because he won the year prior, he could do it again and not expect the Japanese skater to dramatically amp up his skills. He slacked off and won third behind him and _Viktor_. Yuri scoffs a little at how naive he was as another camera goes off in front of him, the flash making his head hurt. His hard work has paid off since then, earning him two consecutive GPF golds as well as some golds from the Four Continents and World Championships, but he’s completely exhausted as if his body’s lack of rest for the past few years is finally catching up to him right then and there.

Yuri huffs and looks back up at the ocean of photographers and gives a crowd-pleasing smile, brushing back some of the long, blond locks which stick to his sweaty forehead. His eyelids feel too heavy for his own good, and his body sways involuntarily, but he’s woken back up when the skater who won second place, Guang Hong, taps his lightly on the shoulder. “We can leave now,” he says in heavily accented English, and Yuri lets out a massive sigh of relief. The Chinese skater lets out a squeak when Yuri quickly steps over him and lets out a quiet apology, legs lethargic as he shoves his way through the press. The lights on the ceiling reflect off the glitter on his costume and into his jade eyes which make his head throb even more.

 _Otabek, where the fuck is he?_ Yuri thinks while massaging one of his temples with his free hand while clutching the bouquet of blue roses to his chest. Otabek hadn’t made it to the GPF this year simply because he hadn’t felt like it was necessary to aim for it when he already did well in other competitions, but he still came to watch Yuri skate. He can’t bring himself to look up and search for the Kazakh and chooses to focus on his feet, putting one foot in front of the other as he headed to where he hoped the door back to the locker rooms was. “OTABEK!” Yuri calls out with as much energy as he can, screwing his eyes shut while he throws his head up to yell his boyfriend’s name so he doesn’t meet the lights from above glaring down upon him. Yuri huffs when all he hears is the clamor of the press behind him racing forward to ask him questions about their relationship. He wants to tell them to go fuck themselves because that’s much easier to do than pursue the pair and get details for their shitty articles, but he knows better now as a young adult that manners _do_ matter. That doesn’t stop him from gritting his teeth and running far away from them, ignoring his headache as he starts to scan his surroundings in search of Otabek.

Yuri squeaks when somebody taps his shoulder, letting out a loud “Huh?!” as he whips his head around too quickly. The world suddenly begins to spin rapidly, and Yuri’s stomach churns while his throat burns because he feels like he’s about to vomit at any given second. The boy falls forward into whoever stands before him, a hand slapped over his mouth while he shut his eyes, trying to regain a sense of stability. He lands on someone’s warm chest; they smell like a crackling fire with a hint of leather from their jacket. “Took you long enough to find me,” Yuri sighs into Otabek, voice muffled as he buries his face in his shoulder.

Otabek chuckles and wraps his long arms around Yuri’s small form, enveloping him as they start to waddle to the locker rooms, Yuri backwards and Otabek forwards. “I couldn’t see you, shortcake,” he replies in his deep, gravelly voice, making Yuri’s overbearing heart flutter a little before it began to calm down. He’s the only one who could ever tease the skater on his height without getting his ass whooped.

Yuri hums in reply and nuzzles into him further, trying to make the aching all over his body disappear. They finally exit the main rink and stood in the hallway leading to it as well as to the locker rooms and bathrooms. Otabek shifts under Yuri and tilts his chin up slowly and gently, like he’s made of china, and Yuri doesn’t even need to open his eyes to know Otabek’s are dark with concern. He never really looks upset, but Yuri just _knows_. “Are you feeling well enough to go to the banquet?” Otabek whispers softly, adjusting his head so that it blocks the light shining down onto Yuri’s face.

Yuri gazes up at his lover through his lashes, not feeling motivated enough to completely open his eyes, and his chest is filled with warmth to replace the space his heart had made when it was doing its damn expanding, fast-beating thing. “Do you mind if we just go?” the boy asks, unable to contain the soft yawn that left his lips, “I’m just... tired.”

Otabek smiles down and hugs him closer, and the commotion going on outside in the rink fades away as Yuri is consumed by his warmth. He’s like a giant heater, and the Russian feels like he’s about to fall asleep on the spot. “Not at all, shortcake. I’ll take you back home.”

* * *

 

The walk back to the hotel next to the rink is more like Otabek lugging Yuri whose legs drag against the pavement underneath him. He ditches his bouquet a while back in favor of sticking one of the roses in one of the pockets on Otabek's jacket. He’s completely loopy, and he’s asking Otabek questions about whatever comes to his mind because he honestly couldn’t give a fuck about maintaining the composure he struggled to keep during the whole competition. He asks him about his favorite constellation when he gazes up at the twinkling stars above them, about whether he likes it here more than St. Petersburg where they share an apartment together, about what kind of breed of cat they should get since Yuri’s old one died several months ago, and he wants a new pet to smother with affection. He’s usually self-conscious around Otabek even though they’ve been dating for two years because he believes he’s a nuisance, but truthfully, he knows the other won’t care. Otabek is kind and comfy to be wrapped in, smiling and seriously, genuinely answering all of Yuri’s questions while helping him down the streets of the city and up the stairs to their hotel.

“Beka, how long do you wanna stay here since the competition’s over?” Yuri asks while he and Otabek head down the hallway of the sixteenth floor, the blond capable of walking normally but still clinging to the older man’s waist, “I want a break from skating, sorta.”

Otabek nods when they stop in front of the door to their room, and Yuri, the ache of fatigue still lingering in his body, leans all his weight into the brunet and makes his back softly land against the wall. Yuri purrs contently when Otabek crouches down to kiss him on his forehead, and his boyfriend laughs softly. “I think you deserve one, kitten,” he says, voice soft as he pulls Yuri closer whose cheeks flush cherry red at the pet name Otabek uses so frequently. “I don’t really care how long we stay. Follow Yuuri’s example; he took time off after he won gold, too.”

That makes the Russian scoff and scrunch up his nose, looking up at Otabek with his chin against his chest. “I don’t follow anything Katsudon does, Bekaaaaaa,” he whines, exaggerating his pout for the sake of seeing Otabek’s smile, his right cheek dimple appearing and his dark eyes sparkling. God, he’s fucking _gay_.

Yuri’s heart falls into the pit of his stomach when Otabek’s eyebrows momentarily start to knit together before he gives him that smile. It’s _not_ that smile, though, because his dimple didn’t pop up, and his brows are still scrunched. “Maybe we should every now and then. It can’t hurt, right?” Yuri’s pout turns into a frown when Otabek lets go of him and shoves his hands into the pockets of his jacket, his body missing the warmth of his arms.

“Tch, what are we supposed to follow?” he asks bluntly when Otabek doesn’t meet his gaze. _That_ is a first in their relationship; Yuri gulps down some bile in his throat and desperately tries to push back the pessimistic thoughts in his head. Katsuki did take a break from skating, but did Otabek mean a break from skating or a break from something else? _A break from us?_ he thought, his blood instantly running cold. “B-Beka, talk to me, what are we following? What did they do? What am _I_ supposed to do?” Yuri spits out, hands flying out to grasp Otabek’s forearms while his heart began to do that thing again, taking up his entire chest and shoving everything else away like it didn’t matter. He isn’t winning this time; he’s _losing_.

Otabek’s eyes widen at Yuri’s sudden mood shift, removing his hand from his pockets to cup the shorter skater’s face. Yuri’s breath catches in his throat when Otabek’s thumbs run over his lashes, wiping away tears that he didn’t know were there in the first place. “Not a break from us, Yuri, no, never,” he reassures quietly. Yuri huffs in relief and falls against Otabek again, inhaling the scent of the leather jacket he knows so well. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I won’t do it again, I promise.”

“You better not, old man,” he groans, gently smacking one of Otabek’s shoulders without any real malice behind the action which makes the victim laugh. Yuri moves Otabek’s hands to his waist and stands on his toes, and the taller man’s expression relaxes before he meets Yuri’s lips with a soft kiss. “I’ll whoop your ass before you can even think about leaving,” Yuri elaborates while Otabek’s still chuckling, eating up his words with more kisses until the Russian’s face turns pink and his lungs run out of air.

“I’m sure you would do that, shortcake,” Otabek replies when he finally pulls away, pulling Yuri’s hair tie out and letting the long locks fall down to the small of his back. Yuri flushes more when Otabek tousles his hair, and he scratches his fingers on the shaved parts of the other’s undercut in return. He trails his fingers down to Otabek’s back pocket, snatching out the room key and striding over to the door He slides it into the slot and scowls when the green light doesn’t come on. 

“So, are you just saying we should just take a vacation from skating like those two lovebirds?” he asks as he tries to open the door again before making a noise like he’s hacking up snot when it doesn’t work.

Otabek walks over to place one of his hand’s on top of Yuri’s, leaning his cheek on his head. “They did take a break, yeah,” Otabek mutters, his voice slightly quivering as he intertwined his and Yuri’s fingers while letting the card drop to the ground, “but they also got married.”

Yuri chokes on a sharp inhale and coughs abruptly, heart beating too quickly for his tiny body to handle. Otabek’s hand flies away from his, and Yuri’s head whips around so he can gaze up at the other while the rest of his body freezes in place. His heart’s growing and pushing down his lungs. Maybe that’s why he feels like he can’t breathe.

For a few minutes, all the pair do is stare at one another, neither of them daring to minimize the space between them. Yuri’s heart is doing that thing again, but he’s too shocked to care as he watches Otabek’s eyes shimmer. It’s not with sadness like he would expect given his reaction, but it’s with... hope. Otabek takes a step forward and takes something out of his pocket, and Yuri begins crying again. He slaps his hands over his mouth only to still release a sharp, loud sob when Otabek begins to kneel, and the Kazakh stands up immediately. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, _fuck_ ,” Yuri whispers as his knees start to buckle, the medal starts to pull down on his neck, his head starts to hurt just like in the rink except he’s not tired at all. He’s overwhelmed.

Otabek’s eyes turn glassy as he clasps his hands in front of him, holding what Yuri knew was a ring box. “I-I wanted to wait longer since you’re only eighteen, but you’re dating me who’s pretty old compared to... to everyone else you could have.” Yuri shakes his head in disagreement and bites his lip to try and contain more of his wails; he’s an ugly ass crier, and he never wants Otabek to see him cry. Otabek smiles wearily and reaches out his one of his hands which Yuri quickly slips one of his own into while leaving the other to cover his burning, tear-streaked face. “I just wanted to do it before I got boring, I guess, and the time... the time feels right.” Yuri sniffles loudly and rubs the heel of his hand into one of his eyes to try and _stop fucking crying_ , one side of his vision dark and filled with neon patterns while the other blurrily watches Otabek. “I-It was going to be more casual, too-”

“Casual, my ass,” Yuri retaliated with a gravelly voice, wiping his hand under his runny nose. Otabek lets out a loud, unrestrained laugh, the kind he has when it’s just them home alone. Yuri can’t help but start giggling when he sees the happiness on his paramour’s face, the hallway resonating with their laughter. Otabek eventually stops, and Yuri almost starts crying again when Otabek starts tearing up again. “Maybe I can follow Katsudon’s example for this,” Yuri croaks out after another few beats. His heart flutters when he sees Otabek’s dimpled smile, eyes swimming with love before he hears the box click open. He almost forgets how to breathe.

Neither of them say another word as Otabek slips the thin ring around Yuri’s right ring finger, his pulse increasing the longer he looks at it. It’s simple and chic, made of white gold, and it’s definitely something his lover would choose. Yuri’s legs finally give out, but Otabek catches him before his knees even meet the carpet. His heart is so big, too big for his body, but he doesn’t care as he wraps his arms around his _fiancé’_ s neck and kisses him profoundly, not caring that he’s running out of air because he wants to give Otabek his everything, to never let him go because he’s the one thing that means more to him than skating, than winning, than _anything_.

Yuri lets Otabek lead him through the night with soft kisses and swallowed moans and tender embraces because he finally feels _ready,_ and Otabek is gentle and patient, loving him passionately and deeply in the pale moonlight shining through the glass doors leading to the balcony. Yuri finally lets his eyelids fall shut as he intertwines his legs with Otabek’s, letting the Kazakh envelope him in his warm arms while the sound of the ocean waves outside wash over his senses. “Davaiiii,” Yuri whispers for no reason whatsoever, pressing a kiss to Otabek’s chest.

  
“Davai,” Otabek sighs into his hair before eventually falling asleep, his breathing even and his heartbeat slow against Yuri’s palm. The Russian tiredly stares at the ring around his finger glinting in the blue moonrays, and he grins to himself before letting fatigue overcome him. His heart is still taking up too much space in his chest, but just this once, he decides he enjoys it, this mix of fatigue and love.

**Author's Note:**

> ngl i squealed writing this myself bc i just??? love otayuri???? but anyways thank u so much for reading, it means a lot!! apologies for any typos, and leave a kudos or comment if u want ! i hope u hv a great day/afternoon/evening and ilyy!
> 
> [hmu on tumblr!](http://lilacgrowth.tumblr.com/)


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